Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Giving it Up to the Gods

by

Kryssie Fortune

Not only angels fall.

Convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, the warrior god Janus plummeted from the heights of Olympus to the depths of the Underworld. After centuries of pain and torment, he finally clawed his way free. He’ll never forgive the gods who condemned him, or the sirens for their part in his downfall.

Each summer, to celebrate the Feast of Neptunealia, Neptune demands a virgin sacrifice. And his sacrifice of choice is a siren.

Sirens are strong, sassy, and sexy.

Lindy’s siren heritage makes her fierce, lusty, and curious but she dreams of loving one man forever. She won’t give her heart—or her virginity—to a short lived mortal she might accidentally break in bed. When Neptune demands her as his sacrifice, she’s determined to give her virginity to anybody except him.

Janus, or Jase as he calls himself now, rescues Lindy from Neptune’s mermen. He’s the one man she’s eager to bed. The clock’s ticking. Lindy has forty-eight hours to seduce the siren-hating Jase and win his heart. That or Neptune will find her and take her against her will.

Alexandra Carlton, Alex to her friends, the only girl born into a family of vampire hunters with strict rules. She lives and hunts by the Code. Despite insecurities and self-esteem issues about her appearance, she eagerly tracks a rogue vamp carrying a contagious virus, deadly to vampires and humans alike, to prove her worth, to her family and herself.

Alex meets Stefan Marin, a brooding 500 year old vampire. He helps her not only on her quest but tames her wildest passions and discovers the true beauty within her, the beauty he can't help but fall in love with.

Together, Alex and Stefan break all the rules uncovering more than a virus—hot sex, an uptight FBI Special Agent, spanking, hot sex, a nosy, meddling brother, more hot sex, bondage and submission, murder, and bad vampires.Will their love survive the wild side they were born to live?

Lustful Cravings

Seven sisters are entwined in a legacy bigger than anyone ever expected. One by one, they will find their mates from the immortal Valendite breeds and secure their place in history. Each sister embodies one of the seven deadly sins only to be cast aside once claimed. But claiming comes at the price of separation, causing a weakening of their combined powers, which none want to happen... until Layla, holding the sin of lust within her body, locks eyes with Madden.

Madden is one of the strongest of the Valendite Breed, a group of near-immortal men originating from the Italian Wars in the 1500s. Today, the Valendite Breed serve as the Terrorist Elimination Unit (TEU), their only weakness being their body’s need for a mate to carry on the Breed. So now that Madden has found Layla, he will never let her go. With forces mounting up against the Breed, Madden and Layla will need to rely on their powers combined to get them to their Pronouncement.

Twilight Destiny

Catherine “Katie” Mills has only one focus in life – to complete her education so she can lift her family out of poverty. She leads a simple life, ruled by order and practicality, until a mysterious, Scottish stranger with extraordinary good looks and a gentle spirit disrupts her plans. When she learns the man she loves is a vampire, fear rises to challenge her heart.

Mistakes made in his early past drive Joshua MacAaron to lead a solitary existence, avoiding mortal relationships, unable to trust without fear of reprisal. When his soul entangles with Catherine’s, he’s forced to accept the bond he cannot break. He guides her gently into his realm, teaching her, preparing for the inevitable discovery of his peers.

When a hunter strikes the Community, Joshua is called away to aid in Haven’s defense. Alone and uncertain, Catherine faces the judgment of the Council of Elders. She struggles for bravery as Joshua instructed, but how can she possibly withhold her terror and defend her destiny in the presence of so many powerful vampires?

Witch’s Brew

Saylym Winslow but is determined to ignore her awakening magical powers. She can’t be a witch; magic brings nothing but trouble. But when Prince Talon, assassin of witches is assigned to terminate her by stealing her soul, she discovers being a real, spell-casting witch is only the beginning of her problems.

Talon is enchanted by Saylym's beauty and charm and refuses to do his duty. He is given a choice by the powerful Waken Guild: Handfast with the trouble making witch to keep her in line or they will send Drayke, the most ruthless waken assassin, to hunt her down.

Looking for a weekend read? Want to explore some new authors? Go grab your copy NOW!

PARANORMAL CRAVINGS... I'm part of 4-book #PNR bundle... over 300,000 words... just 99cents!

Friday, April 25, 2014

Kidnapped and held prisoner by menacing Scottish brigand, the
notorious McCloud, Violet Wyeth does her best to persevere…and resist his rakish
charms. But when she realizes The McCloud is really Ewan St. Andrews, the boy
who once saved her life, the boy who once kissed her and made her heart
flutter, she is lost.

Ewan has every intention of marrying Lady Kaitlin
MacAllister. He desperately needs the entrée into the ton this bride can provide. But when his bride is delivered—bound
and gagged—it’s not Kaitlin. It’s Violet Wyeth—the girl who betrayed him and
ruined his life when he was a boy. He keeps her, determined to punish her for
her sins. But when he discovers the truth about what really happened so long
ago, and seething passion rises between them, he can no longer hold on to his
rusty grudge. By the time he realizes how much he loves Violet—that he always
has—he’s lost her.

All he can do is follow her. Follow her into the bowels of
hell—and partake in the torment of the glittering London Season, where the
harpies are far more dangerous than a Scottish brigand.

A long, nasty scar scored him. Like a puckered lightning
bolt, it made its jagged way from his left nipple down to his belly. Her pulse
skittered. Her breath snagged in her throat. She’d only ever seen a scar like
that once before.

A scar exactly like that.

Her gaze snapped back to his face. She looked at him. Really
looked at him, perhaps for the first
time. Her mouth went dry. The gray eyes laced by thick black lashes. The broad,
smiling mouth. The curve of his jaw.

It couldn’t be. Could it?

“W-where did you get that scar?”

He glanced down and stilled. Annoyance flickered across his
features. “Every man has scars.”

“Not-not like that.” She sat back on her haunches. She
didn’t realize she was squeezing the sponge until water seeped through her
skirts.

“All right. A knife fight.”

“Knives don’t cut like that.” It was uneven and rippled, as
though the flesh and been shorn off in places and sliced in others.

“Well, it was a goddamn knife fight. I was in a vicious
battle with a man in an alley. I gutted him.” His lip curled into a sneer.
“Does it frighten you, my lady?”

“No.” But that was a lie. It did frighten her. Because Ewan,
her friend, the boy who had saved her, had gotten an eerily similar wound
rescuing her from a watery grave. And surely this wasn’t Ewan. It couldn’t be.

Ewan was gentle and sweet. He had liked her, maybe loved
her. He had kissed her. And this man… This man had taken her prisoner and
mauled her and put her to work.

“It wasn’t a knife. It was ice.” A whisper, but he heard it.
He froze, his gaze locked to hers. “You jumped in and found me in the water.
Lifted me out. But you couldn’t get out yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re babbling about.”

But he did. She could see it in his eyes. There, for a flash
of an instant, she saw that boy in
his eyes.

She licked suddenly dry lips. “Ewan? Is it you?”

He rose from the tub in an unholy rush. She didn’t have time
to glanced away. The vision of his naked body, hard and lean, scarred and
perfect, burned on her brain. He grabbed a cloth and covered his loins.

Can an angel survive Hell on Wheels? When Kit Calhoun leaves
New York City with a train car full of foundlings from the Immigrant Children’s
Home, she has no clue she might end up as adoptive mother to four of them in
rip-roaring Cheyenne, Wyoming. Kit has spent her life in the Children’s Home
and now she rides the Orphan Trains, distributing homeless children to the
young nation’s farmers as fast as the rails are laid.

The first time handsome Patrick Kelley spies Kit in
Julesburg, Colorado Territory, he wants her. But circumstances, and a
spectral-looking demented gambler as well as Kit’s certainty no one in his
right mind would want her cobbled-together family, conspire to keep them apart.
As Patrick and Kit and her brood ride Hell on Wheels into their destiny,
they’re all forced to leave behind everything they knew and forge new lives in
the raw American West.

Excerpt:

Cheyenne,
Dakota Territory, January 1868

Panic bloomed, threatening to choke Kit as she gasped for
breath. Where could she be, the small girl brought all the way out to the wilds
of Wyoming from New York City? So certain she could make the best decisions for
the little golden-haired girl, Kit had gone against her own upbringing as well
as the stern advice of those older and wiser in order to make this journey
west. Now here was her little family plunked down in the raw boomtown of
Cheyenne, and she had lost not only her own direction but also the child
entrusted to her care.

Where could Hannah be?
Where?

The streets slimy with melting snow and horse manure, Kit
struggled to keep her footing as she ran frantically up one and down another,
screaming Hannah’s name. Unable to think where to look next, at last she stood
helplessly wringing her hands. Tears made slow, cold tracks down her face.

A door opened behind her, and a voice full of concern said,
“Kit. As luck would have it, I was just coming to look for you.”

And wouldn’t you know it? The voice of the very man who
seemed to turn up at every instance of her bad luck. Indeed, he might be the
root cause of her ill luck ever since she left New York City. And to think he
had once promised to be her salvation, did Patrick Kelley of the dancing Irish
green eyes.

But what were his true intentions as he took hold of her arm?
To save her? Or to be her final ruination, as she suspected?

“Let me go.” She tried to wrench her arm away. “Hannah is
missing. She’s lost. I must find her!”

“Ah, leannán,
don’t take on so,” he said in a soft, cajoling voice. “Hannah is safe and
sound. I have her.”

Kit’s bones suddenly felt soft, as if they had turned to
mush, and her knees started to sag. Ah, God, and wasn’t her luck running true?
Patrick Kelley, the very man! Of all the places in Cheyenne that Hannah might
take refuge, of course it would turn out to be with saloon-keeper, and the
means of the erosion of many a young woman’s morals, Patrick Kelley.

“Come inside, please, Kit,” he insisted, tugging her arm.
Her feet were frozen inside boots soaked with street muck. She felt herself
weakening toward him, the warmth and light of him, and of the place behind him,
beckoning seductively to her.

She had come so far, all the while thinking she knew what
she was doing. Most of a year had passed since setting out. She had followed a
path on a journey of more than two thousand miles, a path of righteousness that
she thought would answer all eventualities.

And then her path, and the paths of the children, crossed
Patrick Kelley’s.

Now once more she must break down and choose between her
lofty principles and a future tied to Patrick Kelley. And she found, to her
utter consternation as she stared into eyes the color of shamrocks, she…still…couldn’t…
decide.

Western history has been the great
interest of my adult life. I've lived in Wyoming, Colorado, and Oregon.
Although an amateur historian, I am happiest researching different times and
places in the historical West. And while staying true to history, I try not to
let the facts overwhelm my stories. Story always comes first in my novels, and
plot arises from the relationships between my characters. I'm always open to
reader response to my writing.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Brie Sullivan has a new baby girl and there are a million things to do, but Brie doesn’t have the energy to keep up. Why? She’s still grieving for her husband and suffering from baby blues, but she won’t let that stop her. She’s come up with the answer--find a new husband to be the father of her kids.

Jason Clark has been doing everything he can to help Brie. He loves her but can he accept her proposal of marriage knowing she’s not thinking clearly about the future?

Excerpt from Birth

The thud of footsteps on the stairs drew Brie away from the counter where she rested.

Jason didn't need to see her wallowing in self-pity, again. She’d already embarrassed herself enough by blubbering all over the man’s shirt earlier.

Retrieving a plate from the counter, she shoved a few nuggets off the baking tray and onto her plate. The rest she dumped on his.

Pasting a smile on her face to hide the dark cloud hanging above her head, she lifted a plate in each hand and turned just as Jason strolled around the corner leading into the living room. His quick pace ate the distance between them. Dark hair, athletic build, sexy brown eyes, Jason epitomized what every woman would desire in a man, not counting that he was also caring and kind.

Why then, wasn't he married?

Unwilling to reveal the depths of her despair, she lowered her gaze as unwanted desire tingled down her spine. Not him, nor any other man in his right mind, would ever find her desirable. She drew in a breath, struggling not to torture herself by believing one ever would.

Stepping forward, she placed the plates on the counter, which separated the kitchen from the breakfast nook. “I'm sorry, but I haven't been to the grocery store since my parents left. All I have are fast easy meals for the kids.”

“No problem.” Jason paused by the bar and brushed his hand through the air, indicating the food. “You really didn't need to go to this much trouble. I could have fixed something for myself when I got home.”

Flustered by his comment when she hadn’t gone to any trouble at all, Brie shuffled to the cabinet and pulled down two glasses. “What would you like to drink?”

“Iced tea is great.”

She plopped the glasses down beside the plates, avoiding his gaze by staring at her footwear. The tiger head positioned on top of her slippers bobbed up and down as she walked across the room to the refrigerator. Opening it, she withdrew the pitcher. Her hand hovered over the condiments in the door. “Would you like some barbecue sauce, ranch dressing, or something else to go with the chicken nuggets?”

“No, I like them plain.” The sound of his voice drew near. The weight of the container in her hand lightened. He brushed his free hand along her back. “I’ve got this.”

His rich scent teased her taste buds more than the flavorful aroma of the chicken and his welcoming warmth tempted her to collapse into his arms.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Duty to king and country has shaped Raik's life since birth,
but to protect them, she must perform a ritual that betrays all she holds sacred.

The Vhalgenn is a warrior, bedmate, soulmate, companion, and friend. Trusted
by the king. Hated by the queen. To save the newborn prince, the Vhalgenn will
risk her position, her honor, and death itself to honor the Old Ways. But when she takes the newborn prince to the queen's
homeland for a ritual blessing, she discovers a betrayal so deep the kingdom --
and her heart -- might never recover.

This fantasy features a strong heroine, and was originally part of the 2008 EPIC eBook Award Finalist anthology A Time To... Volume 1 - The Best of The Lorelei Signal, from Wolfsinger Publications, which is now out of print. The strong female heroine possesses nobility, honor, and courage, and is a role model for women. The book is dedicated to all women warriors, whatever their battle, and is written by a female veteran.

By Kayelle Allen

In this scene from The Last Vhalgenn, the heroine, Raik, is
alone with King Orix. They grew up together, but his new queen barred Raik from
the palace. Raik is back to deliver news of a battle and while delighted to be
with Orix, is nervous about his queen discovering them.

---

I followed Orix to the matching chairs where we used to sit
in the evenings. The fire crackled and popped. Homesickness gnawed my heart,
especially when the faithful old servant, Cyrus, greeted me. His unfeigned
affection and fatherly embrace brought tears to my eyes. He set out a meal of
bread, cheese, and wine and served me first, against all custom.

Orix watched, amusement touching his mouth and eyes. Before
he left, Cyrus reminded me twice to call if I needed anything. Orix stood and
went to the fire, hands held out to the flames.

"There's enough for four people." I broke off a
hunk of crusty black bread. "Come share."

He returned, nibbling while I gulped, but said little. At
last, hunger satisfied and body clean, I leaned back in the chair and lifted a
goblet, watching the fire through the deep red wine.

"I'm sorry, Orix. You know. About Dahr. I didn't mean
to hurt. You mean more to me than anyone alive."

He reached across and took my hand; interlaced his fingers,
and then folded his arms and stared into the fire.

"I need her Raik. As much as I needed you."

Needed? I choked
back words that anguish hurried to mind. I was as much his chattel as any of
his horses. If one person could own another, then I was his, given to him at
birth. Why should it hurt if he treated me as such?

"She's in danger of losing the baby."

"Again?" There had been a miscarriage four months
after their marriage. "What's wrong this time?" I poured more wine.

"Some woman thing. Her doctors fuss around her bed all
day. It's been weeks and she still has to stay on her back. I can't even see
her. All her doctors are from Kellindahr. I don't think she trusts ours."

"This child is crucial, Orix. You need an heir to both
lands. If it helps for her to have her own people around her, so much the
better."

"Aye." He rambled on about a rallying point and
the Kellindahrii people's love for their queen, while I mused over how much
time would be lost begetting another heir. It struck me that if Dahr was abed
she hadn't met Orix's needs. My throat tightened when I thought of him sleeping
alone. I dared not look at the over-sized bed we'd so often shared. Nor did I
look straight at him, afraid my rampant feelings would show. There was a war to
finish. I'd been foolish to bring the dispatch. Being this close to him...

I flung myself out of the chair and stalked, stiff legged
and sore, over to the fireplace and leaned my head against the mantle.

Let him go! He's the
king. You're a soldier. He'll never be yours. Don't lose your heart over him.
Don't do it. Not again.

"I'm sorry." Orix came up behind me. "You're
exhausted and here I am prating about my needs." He pulled my hand to his
mouth and pressed the palm against his lips.

Here's a giveaway for everyone, an illustrated eBook called Behind
the Scenes with The Last Vhalgenn. This free eBook is an inside look at the characters
and setting in the story. When you click the link, this will either offer you a
download, or open in a new window, depending on your settings. To read it, you need
Adobe Reader, available
free.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Sarah will be awarding a digital copy of Almost a Bride to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. Remember, the more you comment, the better your chances to win.

Tara Buck has always been the good sister, level-headed by comparison to Scarlett, her flaky, impulsive twin. But when Tara learns her fiancé has been cheating on her with one of his school students, the orderly world she’s created for herself suddenly feels as if it’s falling apart. For years she chose the safe option, but from now on she’s going to live a little, stretch her wings…be a little daring. And if that means acting on the long-suppressed feelings she’s always had for Reid Dalton, then so be it!

Reid has wanted Tara from the moment he met her, but she’s always been out of bounds. Not only is she his patrol partner at the Bozeman PD, she’s also engaged. But then her relationship blows up, and Reid finds himself battling his own instinct to stake his claim with the finest, hottest woman he’s ever known.

Even if anything did happen between them, it would only ever be temporary - Reid’s a born wanderer, while Tara’s roots run deep in Marietta. So even if things are good between them, it seems their romance is destined to be short and sweet...

Tara’s twin sister, Scarlett, also has a Spring Brides story: look out for Second Chance Bride by Trish Morey. Details from montanabornbooks.com

Now enjoy an excerpt:

Reid Dalton pumped gas into his GMC pickup, one ear tuned to the conversation going on between his friends inside the truck. Grant was giving Brett a hard time for missing an easy layup during the basketball game they’d just finished, and Brett was serving it straight back at him with both barrels.

Reid grinned to himself, feeling pleasantly tired after an hour of charging up and down the court, trouncing the Bozeman Fire Department team. The informal competition between the police department and the firefighters had become a regular thing over the past few months. Reid wasn’t sure which part of their weekly matchups he enjoyed the most—the rapid-fire pace of the game itself, or the inevitable shit giving and taking that occurred afterward.

“You want to know my opinion?” he asked as the pump clicked off, signaling the tank was full.

“Not particularly,” Brett said, which earned him a guffaw from Grant.

“You both need to lift your games. Drink less beer, run a few more miles,” Reid said.

Grant made a rude noise, while Brett gave him a one-fingered salute. Reid was still laughing as he headed into the gas station to pay the cashier.

Then he saw the couple exiting the motel next door to the Gas-And-Go Mart and his step faltered.

The girl he didn’t recognize, but she was young and blonde and clinging to her man as though her very life depended on it. Reid watched as Simon Garfield said something before kissing her in a way that left no doubt whatsoever as to the nature of their relationship.

Damn.

Just... damn.

Tara would be devastated.

For a moment he was frozen as he absorbed all the implications of what he’d just witnessed. Tara had been planning the wedding for the past few months and as her patrol partner, there was precious little Reid wasn’t privy to. Like the fact that Tara and Simon planned on having the reception at Le Petit Chateau in Bozeman, and that Tara was limiting her attendants to just her twin, Scarlett, and that today she had an appointment at Marietta’s one and only bridal salon to pick out her wedding dress...

Belatedly he glanced back at the car, hoping the other guys hadn’t seen, but they were both frowning, staring out the windshield at the sordid little drama unfolding in the parking lot next door. There wasn’t a doubt in Reid’s mind that they recognized Tara’s fiancé. They’d all attended the engagement party Tara and Simon held back in February.

Reid mouthed a four-letter word.

What a nightmare.

Sarah Mayberry is the award-winning, best selling author of more than 30 novels. She was born in Melbourne, Australia, and is the middle of three children. Sarah picked up a love of romance novels from both her grandmothers and has always wanted to be a writer. In line with this ambition, she completed a Bachelor of Arts degree in Professional Writing and Literature. It took her ten years and multiple attempts before her first book was accepted. During that time, Sarah worked in magazine publishing and the television industry, contributing to the internationally known Australian serial drama “Neighbours” and co-creating teen drama series “Karaoke High”. Sarah currently splits her time between writing for television and writing novels.

She lives in Melbourne by the bay with her husband and a small, furry Cavoodle called Max. When she isn’t writing, she loves reading, cooking, going to the movies and buying shoes.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

As autumn comes to the
Winston estate in Ohio, Amber Harrison learns further lessons in her new
position as keeper for the spirits and ghosts who haunt the estate--and further
lessons in love, too. She and her love, Carter Miller, grapple with the fears
and passions of new love, while caught up in the storm of ancient family drama.

This is the second book
in the unfolding saga of the psychics and talents associated with the Winston
estate, a sheltered place where past, present, and future are woven into a
single dramatic tapestry of love and desire. The tale spans multiple
generations, multiple eras, and offers something special for all ages of
reader. A sexy, erotic winner, with an assortment of couples to appeal to most
tastes.

Excerpt:

“How long before you install the new cabinets?”

He turned on the ladder. His dark brown eyes
captured her, engulfing her in an encompassing warmth. She melted under his
heated gaze, which ran from the top of her head to the white socks on her feet.
He lifted a brow at her attire, but he didn’t comment on her pink sweat suit.

“With the old cabinets out of the way, I need to
knock down this wall and tear up the flooring. The electrical work is next on
the agenda.” He climbed off the ladder, yanked off his gloves, and slid a hand
through his thick, wavy hair.

“It might be awhile before we install the new
cabinets. Right now, we’re simply working to remove the old stuff so we can
start fresh.” He smiled, which didn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes or the
fatigue in the slump of his shoulders.

“There’s no hurry. If you’re busy with something
else, this can wait until your Dad and Mattie come home next week.”

“No, Dad doesn’t want her dealing with this mess.”
Carter unbuckled his tool belt and placed it on a workbench. “I promised him I’d
have it done.”

“Is Grant helping?” Amber stepped around several
pieces of sheetrock and stray bits of wood, to the bottom of the stairs.

He walked to the backdoor. “Friday, his classes are
over at noon.”

With his hand resting on the doorknob, he appeared
anxious to leave. “I’m headed to lunch, and then I need to drop by the office
for a while. Are you sure you’re okay here by yourself?”

Amber toyed with the idea of saying no. She missed
the taste of his lips and the strength of his arms, but she nodded instead. “Yes,
I’m fine.”

After opening the door, he paused. “I guess I’ll see
you later.”

She waved and turned to head to her room, satisfied she’d
at least gotten him to talk. Her leaden feet trudged up the steps. Unexcited,
she contemplated her latest assignment from the family council. How could she
achieve such an impossible task?

Monday, April 14, 2014

Here is my YA novella, Waterfire. Waterfire is the second novella in the Providence Trilogy. The cover is done by Amygdala Design and actually inspired the fire drill scene on the docks.

Changes in my life have delayed the publication of the Providence Trilogy, but it should still debut, one novella at a time, in 2015.

About Waterfire

Told as a series of diary entries, Waterfire chronicles the way Kelly learns that she has the power to set things on fire with her mind. All such pyrokinetic teenagers must attend a school where their power is repressed at all times. With the help of her friends, Kelly must escape the prison-like regime in order to save her mother's life.

Eggcerpt

September 7

Maybe if I write about the first day here, it will stop rattling around in my head like big clumps of lead.

Actually, I wish I had a big clump of lead to carry around with me instead of this stuff. They give us small patches, like nicotine patches for people who want to quit smoking, but with our kryptonite to wear against our skin and help control the urges. It does seem to cut down on the incidents – I haven’t made a fire since I got here a week ago. But, God, it itches like crazy! I’m always scratching at mine, I can’t help it, and I have to be careful with where I put the new patch of the day because I could look like an idiot scratching my armpits or some other sensitive area all day. They let us take them off at night so we can sleep, because everyone has an adverse reaction to their patch, but not everyone itches. Melinda, the high and mighty, claims it makes her tired so she can’t do PE. Like she’s having her period, all the time. I swear, she’s like a Victorian with the vapors every day at two o’clock. And the teachers fall for it! They let her go take a nap in her room. I wonder what she really does in there while we have to jog laps around the gym and bounce ridiculous balls off stupid things, like each other. I mean, what does that have to do with not setting anything on fire?

Anyway, my first day here, I barely had time to drop my bags before we had a get-to-know-you kind of meeting, which they called “orientation.” They made us all sit in a circle on the floor – yes, the concrete floor, with no rugs or pillow, what were they thinking? About flammability. I swear that’s all we are to these people — big walking fireballs. Todd, the lanky upperclassman who led the group with a senior girl and one of the teachers, had us go around the circle saying our names and what our kryptonite was. It was probably more to orient them to us, to prepare the patches, than for any other reason.

So there are precisely twenty of us newbies here. They started the circle with Brian, who was sitting right next to me, but it went in the opposite direction! So after Brian said he couldn’t produce flames in the presence of tungsten, eighteen other people went ahead of me. I was getting more nervous by the minute and barely heard what the other people said, with their run-of-the-mill kryptonites like lithium, beryllium and even krypton, which seems reasonable enough but is pretty expensive for the school to have on hand. My ears pricked up when a girl named Jill admitted phosphorus took away her powers. I snickered quietly to test whether anyone else would, but there were no takers. Come on, it’s embarrassing to be a pyrokinetic and have that ability erased by phosphorus, right? The stuff they put in the heads of matches? Doesn’t that seem a little ironic, at least?

“There’s no shame in any kryptonite. We all have one,” said Todd. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye like I was some kind of troublemaker.

So I rolled my eyes to show my disregard for authority to the other new students and held my breath again. Maybe if they didn’t laugh at phosphorus, they wouldn’t laugh at me, either. Maybe. Possibly.

No one was looking at my reddening face because it was Melinda’s turn, whoop de doo. She demurely announced her name and said, “My kryptonite is platinum.” She flashed a smile that I swear cut the air with a knife-sharpening sound. She drew a shiny necklace from under her blouse. “I already wear this all the time, ever since my parents gave it to me. I won’t need a patch.”

A hushed “ooh” went around the circle. Todd was nodding, as if Melinda had already arranged it all with the administration. Brian, right next to me, sucked in air. I couldn’t say exactly what he was thinking, but I knew right then that I liked him. A lot. Unbidden, the image of placing a darkly shiny tungsten wedding band around his finger entered my mind. It helped that he smelled pretty good. Since then, of course, it’s hard to smell anything other than my stupid patch.

Melinda’s act was hard to follow and I didn’t notice what anyone else said, so when it came to me, it still seemed like I had to compare myself to platinum. I covered my mouth to muffle the name of my fire-dampening element, but of course Todd said, “What was that? Say it again.”

“My name is Kelly,” I repeated, putting my diaphragm into it. “And my kryptonite is sulfur.” I wondered if I’d started a blaze on my face. I couldn’t feel my cheeks as I smiled, bracing myself. It was the same sinking, sick feeling I had with Uncle Jack a month ago. The laughter bubbled under the surface. I could feel it coming.

“Fire, but not brimstone,” Melinda said in a way that questioned the possibility.

Then it started. Todd snorted and the teacher, Ms. Matheson, barked a laugh over the snickering that was growing so sinisterly in volume. She clapped her hands over her mouth and composed herself to say, “There is no shame in any kryptonite! Hush! Quiet! My weakness is lead!”

She reached into her purse beside her — I’d thought she was just kind of weird to keep her purse with her in this situation — and pulled out a key ring with no keys attached to it, but several irregularly shaped rocks that must have been made of lead. She certainly hefted it as if it weighed a ton. “I can’t wear lead against my skin because it would poison me like a regular person, beyond taking my pyrokinesis away.”

The laughter died down with the interest in the new distraction. I thought of getting up and walking out, but Ms. Matheson continued and I had to hear. “I have to carry these pieces of lead with me at all times so I can get to them in an emergency, like a diabetic or something. I can’t even put this charm as far away from me as the conveyor belt when I go through airport security. Believe me, that can add to the difficulties of a trip.” Then she smiled so sweet and silly at all the newbies, they had to chuckle the way you might at a cute baby.

I loved Ms. Matheson then. She looked into my eyes and I could tell that was exactly what she wanted — a new friend from among the outcasts. She must be a weirdo in her life, too, with no friends her own age. I looked away and stayed quiet, hoping no one would remember me for the rest of the orientation. When Todd and Ms. Matheson finished explaining about curfews and hall passes and field trips, I stood up as slowly as I could, my every movement calling attention, in my mind, anyway. They were commencing a ritual of significance I didn’t learn until later and didn’t notice me slip out. Without a hall pass. [...]

What adventures will Kelly get herself into? Waterfire is a humorous, dramatic, and engaging novella and also a love poem to Providence, Rhode Island.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Another one of my author friends is having a blog hop. Sort of like Blissemas we did at Christmas time, this one is called theEaster Eggcerpt Exchange and will run from March 5th through April 20th. To push me into finishing Jixit, I’ve set myself a deadline for April 11th to have it published online. Today I created the cover, which I will unveil in this blog, so enjoy! Blurb:
Colin Jix is a loner. He’s had to be, due to a unique ability that is also a curse. So he lives in a remote mountain town where he limits his contact with other people. He’s settled into his solitary life and resigned himself to be alone. That is until Dot Tate shows up with a broken down car and needs his help. Neither can fight their immediate attraction, even though he tries to remain distant. But then as he uncovers a tragic secret and must step outside his comfort zone to make things right, he discovers his curse is actually a gift.
And here is the eggcerpt of this mildly erotic paranormal romance:
A persistent knocking woke him early the next morning. Disoriented and still tired from lack of sleep, he rolled off the couch and stumbled to the door. Without thought he pulled it open with a yawn and then froze, suddenly remembering he never opened his door to strangers as well as making sure he was completely dressed first. As the cool air from the hallway hit his naked chest, he realized he still wore the towel from his shower the night before. Her scent on that unwelcome air hit him harder, and he covered his crotch with one hand and slammed the door shut with the other.
Dot was left standing in the hall, staring at the door, but that’s not what she saw. The vision of Colin in only a towel would be forever imprinted on her retinas. Her mouth fell open at those muscles, and the hair lightly sprinkled on his chest and abdomen, disappearing beneath the low riding towel. His tattered uniform and all that grease had hidden much more than she could have hoped for, and she licked her lips.
“Oh my!” The breath rushed from her lungs, before she sucked it back in and knocked on the door again.
“Yeah, hold your damn horses!” His muffled shout replied from a distance.
Her instincts told her to get the hell out of there. She’d already embarrassed him, and she didn’t want to make it worse, but she knew she couldn’t leave without at least apologizing for taking him so unaware. She thought mechanics always got up early. Glancing at her watch, she winced, having read the time wrong. It probably was too early to show up at a man’s home, especially one she barely knew.
Dot took a few steps away from the door and waited. His agitation came through the wood in muffled curses, and she clenched her fingers together behind her back. When the door finally opened again, black covered Colin from head to toe. The only bit of skin visible was the part of his face the knitted cap and matching scarf didn’t cover. She frowned, wanting to see his hair without all that grease, and she missed that opportunity earlier when she couldn’t tear her eyes from his muscular chest and arms.
His whole body blocked the doorway as he glared at her. “How did you know where I live?”
She gave him what she hoped was her most charming smile. “So I guess you’re not going to invite me in?”
His objection to that suggestion shone clearly in his disgruntled features. “I was actually on my way out.” He closed and locked the door behind him and then marched past her to the stairs. “I thought you understood that your car won’t be ready for at least a week.”
Dot stared at his ass, wishing his jeans were a bit tighter. “Of course you made that clear. I was having breakfast at the diner and mentioned how my phone switches off for no reason. The waitress mentioned you. I actually think she has a crush on you.”
Colin stopped half way down the stairs and looked over his shoulder at her. “You mean Rose?”
She nodded, unable to keep the humor from showing in her grin.
“Rose has a crush on every eligible man in the whole town. I’ll have to talk to her about giving out my address to strangers though.”
Dot raced down the stairs and stopped in front of him. “I’m not a stranger.”
He stared down at her, his expression unreadable, and she tried not to fidget under his intense scrutiny. He held out his gloved hand to her, and she stared at it, unsure what to do. Did he want to hold her hand? A warm rush flowed through her body at the thought, even though she wouldn’t be holding his bare hand.
“Your phone?”
“Oh, of course.” She couldn’t stop the nervous giggle that escaped as she scrambled through her purse in search of her cell phone. Once found, she placed it in his gloved palm.
Colin stared at it for a moment, and she saw uncertainty cross his face. Finally, he pulled off one glove and cradled the phone in his fingers. She could only stare in awe as his expression changed, as if he no longer saw the phone but something bigger, and his eyes scanned the empty air above his palm.
He blinked a few times and then refocused on her. “I’ll walk you back to the diner. I should have your phone fixed by then.”
Without another word, he passed her on the stairs, and she had no other choice but to follow him.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Trish will be awarding a $20 Amazon GC to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. Remember, the more you comment, the better your chances to win.

Scarlett Buck has always been flaky in comparison to her sensible twin sister Tara, so nobody is really surprised when Scarlett spends all her money on a one way ticket to Australia to be with the man she’s met on the Net. But she hasn’t reckoned on the guy already being married, or her mom getting sick, and now she needs money for a flight home to Marietta, MT—quick. Signing on with Bella's Belles in Kalgoorlie isn't be the proudest moment in her life but it will get her home fast. After all, it's just sex.

Or is it?

Mitch Bannister's ex is about to marry his best friend, and he could really do with a cold beer and a hot woman. But the cowgirl he takes a shine to at Bella's is surprisingly skittish, and in the end he leaves without hooking up.

Later, when Mitch spies the cowgirl in the local pub begging for a job, he shrinks into the shadows--he's not looking for complications, and something tells him that Scarlett Buck is a whole handful of them. But soon it's clear she's not just trouble, she's in trouble, and like it or not, he's not about to turn his back on this stray from the States. Especially if she can do him a favor in return. After all, it's just a helping hand.

Or is it?

Now enjoy an excerpt:

“You look amazing,” he said, and it wasn’t his words that warmed her through and through, it was the husky quality to his Aussie drawl and the raw heat in his eyes. If she’d had any qualms that he was dressing her to make his ex feel bad, they were banished before they could take root. He was dressing her for him.

She’d never thought blue was a warm color, not until now, not until she’d felt this slow, warm glide of his eyes over her form leaving a smoking trail of heat.

So sex wasn’t part of this deal?

Didn’t mean it wasn’t going to happen.

Shoes and accessories were next. He took his time, not rushing and not checking out the sale items like she was, but going for top shelf every time.

She wondered whether he was as attentive a lover as he was a shopper.

And then she remembered that first encounter in Bella’s, and the hot stroke of his tongue against her breast.

Oh yeah!

USA Today Bestselling Author, Trish Morey has written thirty romances for the internationally bestselling Harlequin Presents line and her stories have been published in more than 25 languages in 40 countries worldwide, including being published in Manga comic book form in Japan, and as Trish Moreyova in the Czech Republic. Trish was awarded Romance Writers of Australia’s Romantic Book of the Year Award (the Ruby) for short, sexy romance In 2006 and again in 2009, as well as being a finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA Awards in 2012.

A qualified Chartered Accountant by trade, Trish was employed as financial manager at a major business school prior to her first sale.

Trish lives with her husband, 4 daughters and assorted menagerie in the beautiful Adelaide Hills.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Centuries on from the discovery of her beloved island in the sun, Emily Thompson, Rose to her friends, leaves for the motherland, England, in search of a better life. One day her children will be able to join her and choose from a dazzling array of possibilities. Till then, it's hard work for the young woman in this rich man's country; not only must Rose scrape the money together for a new life, but she must also come to terms with this unknown phenomenon: di Hinglish dem... James Dunbar. Jack is what he answers to. Even from his poky council flat on the seventh floor he can see all too clearly that the streets of London are most definitely not paved with gold. Picking his way through the mucky incidents of life, he consoles himself that things will get better; his kids won't turn into ruffians and go smashing up other people's property. One day they'll all live in a house with a garden. No graffiti anywhere in sight. And no dog shit on the pavement, either... They happen to meet at a bus-stop, Emily and Jack. Encounters which do seem to contain a glint of that something better they are both looking for, if only they had the courage to reach out and touch it... An account of the black immigrant experience jostling to find its place among the white working class. A tale of how the humble live

Excerpt

Gertude got off the bus in the big city. It didn’t take her long to find out where the well-off lived, and she headed immediately for that part of town. The big city. There were more shops here than she had ever seen in her lifetime. And people! Black people dressed like she never knew they could. And women in high heels and make-up. It made her feel unattractive and primitive. She’d never look like these women who swung their hips and pouted, touching their styled hair and talking back to the men who stopped to enjoy the sight of them and whistle nastiness. Look! There was a black lady with a little bitty dog on a lead. A dog. On a lead. She wore a long blonde wig, tottered along in her gold high-heel shoes and the men were just about going crazy over that blonde hair and them high heels. One stopped his car in the middle of the road, hung his head out the window, Hello lovely, wha mek yu no get in it, lek me give yu a ride. She said No, she didn’t want a ride, she knew he did, she chose to wiggle on her way, sweet-smiling to a chorus of tooting, of whistling and “pussy sweet!”. Gertrude stood there in her country frock and chunky plaits. Me is a quashie; a real country bumpkin. Closed her eyes and sighed. Never. If she had finished school and got into nursing college... but she pushed the thought back to where it belonged, out of her mind.

Two parts of town Gertrude had to go to. The well-off black district and the well-off white district. She could have taken a bus but she had time. Besides, the one case she had wasn’t even heavy. A bashed-up, scratched-up, thrown-out-by-some-indulgent-white-man-seemed-like-centuries-ago old brown suitcase that had been in Gertrude’s family longer than she herself had. Some grandparent or great-grandparent had brushed it off and taken it home. A woman, no doubt; the men too proud to sully their fingers with a handout however badly they might need it, nevertheless making full use of it and only too quick with the word my when it went missing and they went crazy, threatening to bust up the cabin and bust in heads if it didn’t turn up that minute. Ruby had taken it with her when she had left. Weren’t nobody in that house going nowhere apart from her. Apart from downhill. She had given it to Gertrude when the latter had brought home the best grades in the whole school together with a letter of congratulation from the headmaster. One-son wouldn’t be needing the case, the way things were going, Ruby figured. Ricky, neither, so she had given it to Gertrude, unceremoniously, telling her; wen is time fi yu go away an learn some more, yu gwine need a case put yu tings inna. One of the hinges was loose and the handle was fraying, so you couldn’t load it too much. As Gertrude walked down the street, the suitcase tap tapped reassuringly against her leg with every other step.

More about JoanJoan Barbara Simon (Ph.D.); novelist, poetess, songwriter. Lecturer. Researcher. Trouble-maker.She's been reaping 5-star reviews for her fiction in all genres. She has made it her mission to look more closely at undefined spaces - linguistic, sexual, philosophical, political - because she ha chosen to resist the temptation, the comfort, of easy answers.

Friday, April 4, 2014

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Kelly will be awarding a $20 Amazon GC to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. Remember, the more you comment, the better your chances to win.

What a bride wants…

Ella Grace Emerson adores her father, but he keeps trying to marry her off to every eligible rancher in Montana. When he puts an ad in the paper on her behalf – for a docile house-husband – Ella retaliates with one of her own, pinned to the noticeboard of the local saloon. No husband required, housebroken or otherwise. What she wants is the perfect lover.

What a bride needs…

Newcomer Cam Sawyer is perfectly willing to tear up the sheets with Ella and be her partner in chaos. She wants a bad boy and he’s had experience aplenty. But what she really needs is a strong and loving partner, and until Sawyer stops running from his past he can never be that.

Sawyer’s the one Ella wants. But can he be the man she needs?

Now enjoy an excerpt:

Jo snatched for the Copper Mountain Courier at the same time Ella did. Ella got there first and wore Jo’s slender body slamming up against her side a heartbeat later.

“Oh, look,” Jo said helpfully. “A picture of you. And it’s a good one.”

They read in silence. Moments later, Jo’s hand crept up to cover her mouth.

“If you laugh—” Ella threatened darkly. At which point her sweet and ever loving childhood companion did a mighty fine impression of someone about to cough up a cow.

It was a full one minute and thirty-seven seconds before Jo could even speak. “I’m not laughing. I was choking.”

“Have you read down further?”

Jo nodded vigorously. “I particularly like the bit about him needing to be able to cook, clean, iron, keep a tidy house, and raise well-mannered, obedient children.”

“And the rest?”

“Well, who wouldn’t want a man who’s committed to due diligence, the greater good, and sparkling silverware?”

Ella drained her drink in one long swallow and signaled for another. “I’m going to kill him.”

Accidentally educated in the sciences, Kelly Hunter didn't think to start writing romances until she was surrounded by the jungles of Malaysia for a year and didn't have anything to read. Eventually she decided that writing romance suited her far better than throwing sterile screw-worm flies out of airplane windows, and changed careers.

Kelly now lives in Australia, surrounded by lush farmland and family, 2 dogs, 3 miniature cows, a miniature pig, a 3-legged cat and a small flock of curious chickens. There are still flies, but their maggots don’t feed on flesh. Bargain.

Kelly is a USA Today bestselling author, a three time Romance Writers of America RITA finalist and loves writing to the short contemporary romance form.